


Tradition

by KLStarre



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: Flower Crowns, Friendship/Love, Galaderon, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, this is so incredibly repressed (reprise)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/pseuds/KLStarre
Summary: It's just one of their things.





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a prompt from seacaster.tumblr.com: "bev n erlin............... makin flower crowns for each other"

            The sun is out and the breeze is gentle and the last day of school for the year has just ended, and so Beverly and Erlin are going on a picnic. This is a Tradition, with a capital T, even though neither of them thinks of it with that word. It’s just something that they do. There are a lot of things like that.

            Usually, their picnic is in one of their backyards, because it’s easier than making food and carrying it somewhere and they’ve always been too young to go wandering on their own. But now they’re a whole _fourteen_ years old, and they can both heal people with a touch, so, like, they’re practically grown up.

            Which means they’ve wandered off together to one of the hills in the sprawling park a ten minutes’ walk from their school, where all the sound from the city fades away and it feels like the possibility of being a Green Knight actually _means_ something. They have _so_ much food. Their picnic basket is completely full, of sandwiches and pastries that they had made together the night before, and Beverly places it down on the grass with a thud as Erlin spreads out their blanket. They’ll hang out with Cran and Derlin later, probably, but this is _theirs_. No one thinks to question it.

            Once the blanket is out, they flop onto it together, and Beverly hands Erlin a sticky bun. They’d had lunch already, obviously, but that’s not the _point_. Erlin takes a bite and then, contemplatively, asks, “We didn’t make these, did we?”

            Beverly shakes his head, doing his best to ignore how close his and Erlin’s shoulders are. This is a new problem, maybe a year old. He never used to notice things like this, and he doesn’t know who to talk to about it. Usually, he talks to Erlin about everything, but this feels private. This is _his_ , just as the picnic is theirs. “My mom put them in the basket this morning. I _told_ her we didn’t need them, but they’re the _best_ , so I let her put them in anyway.”

            “They are the best,” Erlin says, shoving the rest of his into his mouth and then grinning at Beverly. He had gotten his braces off a few days ago, and it’s weird not to see them glinting in the sun. Any time anything about Erlin changes, it’s a little bit weird. Beverly assumes that’s what happens when you’ve known someone for so long that you have them memorized.

            Erlin finishes his sticky bun and lies down on his back, stretching his arms up towards the sky. Is it just Beverly’s imagination, or had he moved slightly closer to him? Is it just Beverly’s imagination, or is there a hint of a blush on Erlin’s cheeks as he looks up at him and then past him, pointing at some insect high above them? “What’s that?” he asks, and Beverly looks, loving the feeling of maybe knowing some piece of information he can share with Erlin, but then he feels Erlin push him over, trying to get advantage on a wrestling match while Beverly’s distracted by the admittedly super-cool dragonfly flying by overhead.

            This is also one of their things. They have a _lot_ of things.

            They roll around for a while, Beverly so focused on winning that he doesn’t even think about how warm Erlin is, or about how right it feels to be close to each other. Eventually, Beverly wins, as he always does, Erlin stuck in a harmless, poor version of a headlock and both of them panting. As soon as they stop moving, Beverly lets go, even though they’re both laughing. He always feels bad when he wins against Erlin, in wrestling, in sparring, in collecting patches, in whatever. Erlin cares _so much_ , but Beverly is just better at being a Green Teen, even though he’s constantly telling Erlin that all he needs is a little more practice. Erlin is good at other things.

            As he thinks this, he looks up at Erlin again, and sees that he’s got his breath back and is carefully inspecting a flower beside the blanket. Beverly watches him closely as he wrinkles his forehead and then plucks it gently, keeping the whole stem intact, before moving to the next nearest flower and repeating the process. Spending time together is often like this – they both have a tendency to get fixated on things, or to get distracted from what they’re doing by something entirely different. It’s one of their favorite things about each other, that they can just do anything.

            “What’re you doing?” Beverly asks, as Erlin reaches for a third flower, and Erlin tilts his head slightly but doesn’t respond immediately, instead picking a fourth flower and tying them together in some sort of intricate not that Beverly can’t quite follow.

            Beverly waits a second, and then asks again. “What’re you making?”

            This time Erlin looks back at him and grins again. “A flower crown! For you. Sometimes I feel like I can make the stems grow a little bit and hold together better.”

            Beverly watches him for another few moments, fascinated by how quickly and gently his hands move, weaving the flowers of every color together. “Will you show me?” he asks, eventually, and there’s no pause before Erlin answers, handing Beverly a handful of flowers which haven’t yet been woven in.

            “It’s like this,” Erlin says, gently guiding Beverly’s hands to braid the stems together in a knot that’s not quite as complicated as how Erlin did it, but still holds them together. Beverly’s tongue sticks out slightly in concentration as he hunches over the flowers, as Erlin helps him with each step, until eventually he’s doing it on his own, brow furrowed. He’s just finishing up the circlet when he feels a light breeze, and looks up from his work to see Erlin next to him, placing his creation on Beverly’s head and casually smoothing one of Beverly’s curls behind his ear.

            “What do you think?” he asks, and Beverly’s face lights up, he can _feel_ it, even though he can’t see what it looks like on his head.

            “I love it,” he responds, simply, and then ties off the last flower in the one he’s making for Erlin. It’s messy, and petals are falling off in places, but when he asks Erlin, “May I?” Erlin responds “Of course” like it’s a masterpiece.

            Beverly is good at swords, and wrestling, and collecting patches, but Erlin is good at other things. Like creating, and teaching, and being a friend. In Beverly’s opinion, right this minute, Erlin is good at the things that matter.


End file.
